~ 3 Months Later ~
She wouldn't say a whole fleet were trying to hunt her down, but really a whole fleet were trying to hunt her down. Grand Marshal Cara dune needed to arrive to her destination, fast. Lasers were firing as the SMF Sturdy, which, by its bulky hull were hard to avoid. Engine one down. Second ship was on her left and third on her right. One had taken its position in front. Terrible choice. BANG! Into light speed…now! The ship met the gaze of Hutt space. Nope. Wrong way. Light speed…now! Fuel? Dangerously low. Could I make one more jump? Cara thought. Yep. ZOOM! Thrusters not responsive. System shutdown is inevitable. But wait! She sighed. Sorgan.
The sun shone brightly into the windows of the bungalow. In the waking hours of the morning, the sweet scent of local flora added to the serenity of this peaceful landscape. His armour would have shone brightly in this environment, but it was locked away. In a box. In the attic. At a house. In a clearing. In the forest. On Sorgan. His weapon would have a brilliant display of skill and design. But they were in a box. On his Ship. In a clearing. In the forest. On Sorgan. They would've been used but the honourable Mandalorian was asleep. On a chair. On the deck. At a house. In a clearing. In the forest. On Sorgan. A bottle of spotchka rested in his hand. He slept silently; feet resting a table nearby. His bright complexion highlighted a state of tranquillity. The grooves in his face revealed a man of 36; but a warrior at heart. All was peaceful. Until…WHOOSH! A few chairs were blown over. Some flowers blew out from their beds. Some frogs seemed less than content. Steam arose from this dump of a ship which landed in the clearing, in the forest, on Sorgan. From the hatch a soldier stepped forward, blaster in hand and prepared for a fight. Her eyes searched the area and spotted a man, spotchka in hand and prepared for a sleep. He wore loose clothing still unflinching at the sight of her ship.
"Ah. Cara Dune." He said as she walked over, eyes till closed and feet on table. "Grand Marshall of the New Republic."
"Hi Mando. How did you know–?"
"Nice ship you got there. Not really the light skipping type, but must of pretty sturdy to get out here." He paused and turned to look at the woman before him. Her hair was different, longer perhaps, but still kept the same rough braided look. "Spotchka?"
"I'm good." Cara picked up one of the fallen chairs and sat beside him. "Nice place you got out here."
"You ever see that fine widow?"
"Nope. Doesn't know I'm here."
"Ya drunk Mando."
"Ugh! How long did you think it would take us to find you?" Changing the subject. Very serious. He smiled as the tension increased.
"Not long. But I'm beginning to like out here. Enjoying the sun, 'sipping spotchka' – "
She coughed, "You mean inhaling spotchka…"
He took another swig. "Anyway, i was thinking you could leave and–!" Cara was getting sick of this lazy man. She stood up and stepped in front of him. She grabbed him by his bedraggled shirt, so that his feet lifted of the ground.
"By thunder, Din! You are going to get off your lazy womp rat behind, get on your ship and go to Mandalore! Bo-Katan asked me to bring you back. And that. Is. What. I'll. Do." SMASH! The man knocked the glass bottle of spotchka into the head of Cara dune. He leapt from his seat and threw himself to a vertical beam. Using all of his weight, Din caught hold of the pole, swung around and kicked the unsuspecting officer into a chair. Even with bare feet the guy could pack a punch.
"Can't do that with beska on." He called whilst dodging various objects thrown his way. He sprinted for the trees, with Cara chasing after him. The Marshal entered the woodland. The birds called ominously as light filtered through the trees. Din meanwhile was watching from above. It was so much easier without the weight of his armour holding him down. 3. 2. 1. Din jumped off the tree, shoving Cara onto the ground. The Marshal right-hooked the man, which ended the fight quickly.
"Can't do that with Beska on!" Said she, helping him up.
The Mandalorian walked out of the cabin, amour and all. After loading his brand new ship The Wanderer, he turned to survey the area. He would never again see his bungalow, in a clearing, in the forest, on Sorgan. Which wasn't really for him anyway. Cara called out to him. The Sturdy was fried so they were using his ship. Climbing aboard, memories of the Razor Crest surfaced: still fresh in his mind.
"Mandalore." Came the reply. Mando found the took out the small spheric ball from his pocket and screwed it onto the lever. Systems ready. Thrusters engaged. Onwards!